


Exactly What It Looks Like

by clueing_for_looks



Category: The Halcyon (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clueing_for_looks/pseuds/clueing_for_looks
Summary: “What – what you saw, earlier,” Toby stammered, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “It was…we were just –”“Kissing.” Freddie was staring into his drink as if it was the most fascinating thing in the room. “You were kissing him.”“Not much,” Toby whispered, the words barely audible.Freddie doesn't knock. A finding-out oneshot.





	

“I need to get dressed,” Toby said, not releasing his grip on the boy under him or making any move to get ready. “I’m meeting my brother for a drink in twenty minutes.”

“I make it half an hour,” Adil said, checking his wristwatch.

They were flat on their backs in Toby’s bed. Every time they attempted to get up and dressed, something brought them straight back again, lounging and sprawling on each other. Toby had progressed the furthest, wearing his trousers, vest and one sock. Adil had his unbuttoned trousers halfway up his legs.

“Half an hour is just enough time –”

“To stay a little longer.”

“ – to get ready.”

Their bodies were wrapped up in each other, arms and legs tangled. Adil was stroking Toby’s thigh, Toby was running fingers over Adil’s collar bone.

“Actually, you’re right. It would be a disaster to put a shirt on something so lovely.” His fingers swept down the length of Adil’s body, dipping over the curves of hipbones and his belly button. He rested his palm against Adil’s stomach, feeling the muscles flex at the touch.

“Stop touching my stomach,” Adil said with a groan. “No one does that.”

Toby grinned, rolling over so he could sprawl between Adil’s legs. “I do that,” he said decisively, pressing his mouth to Adil’s naval, sticking out his tongue for good measure.

Adil huffed out a breath, his mouth twitching at the sides. Any hint of encouragement and they would be absorbed in each other again, all thoughts of Freddie forgotten.

“Your brother,” he prompted.

Toby rolled off him with a sigh, standing up and forcing himself to drag on his other sock. Freddie had been granted two days leave and wanted to spend the majority of it in Emma’s company. Toby and Lady Hamilton had been booked into neat little slots, drinks and dinner respectively.

Toby felt arms slide around his waist from behind. He leant back into the embrace, wondering how it would be possible to leave of his own free will.

“I need to go,” he said. He felt Adil’s mouth on the base of his neck, kissing the point where his hair met his skin.

“So go.”

“You’re a monster.” He turned around, sliding his hands into Adil’s hair as he kissed him. He nipped his bottom lip, running his tongue along it leisurely. When Adil tried to pull back he nipped him harder.

“I like it when you bite me,” Adil breathed, in the fraction of space between their mouths. “So that tactic isn’t going to work.”

As slowly as he could, Toby pushed his hand down the front of Adil’s underwear. “What about this tactic?” he asked innocently, feeling a thrill in the pit of his stomach when Adil’s eyes closed. “I bet that doesn’t affect you either.”

Their breaths were in sync; bodies as close as possible. “You don’t have time to finish what you’ve started,” Adil whispered, chest hitching. “Which makes you evil.”

“I could have you sacked for a comment like that.”

Adil huffed a laugh, his hips moving into Toby’s touch. “Ha bloody ha. Then where would you go to satisfy – this?” He wrapped a hand around the base of Toby’s skull, giving him a lingering kiss.

Toby tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “I’m sure one of the other bar staff would accommodate.”

“You’d have to kill them first.”

“Hmm. That does sound like a lot of effort.”

Using the hand not currently occupied, Toby dragged Adil into another biting kiss. It was ragged and messy, their teeth knocking together more than once.

They were so entwined that even when the door opened it took a few seconds to stop.

Freddie was standing there with his bag on his shoulder, straight back from the base. He had taken a few steps into the room, his mouth beginning to say “Toby, come on –” before stopping dead.

Toby leapt back from Adil, wrenching his hand away. His heart seemed to have leapt as well, settling somewhere in the region of his throat. Adil yanked his trousers up, buttoning them as fast as he could.

“Freddie,” Toby said. His voice sounded strange and hollow, as though travelling across a great distance. He was hyper aware that Adil was half naked, and that the bed covers were an incriminating mess. He crossed his arms over his chest instinctively.

Freddie’s eyes were wider than Toby had ever seen them. They raked over Adil, taking in the incorrectly-fastened trousers, the bare feet, the mused hair…

“Freddie,” Toby said again, watching his brother’s expression change into one of nausea.

Freddie turned on the spot and fled, not bothering to shut the door. Toby made a wild grab for the crumpled shirt on the floor at his feet and forced his arms through the sleeves, not bothering with shoes. He ignored Adil’s instruction to wait, think, instead pelting after his brother into the corridor.

Freddie was much faster.

Toby had forgotten that he wasn’t a good runner, not having any cause to practice. He lost sight of Freddie within seconds, seeing nothing more than the tail of an overcoat whip between the doors of the lift.

“Freddie,” he hissed, reaching the doors after they had closed. He smacked a hand against the shining metal, turning and sprinting for the stairs.

 _Give him some space_ , the Adil-shaped portion of his brain insisted.

 _Run faster_ , the rest of his body screamed. He pelted down the stairs two at a time, slipping on the marble and clinging onto the rail to prevent falling. He lurched past a couple of French guests who chided him angrily.

In the atrium he collided head-on with Mr Garland, almost sending them both to the floor. The older man recovered with grace, reaching out a steadying hand. “I apologise, Mr Hamilton –”

“My brother!” Toby said, wriggling free. “Where is he?”

“I believe Lord Hamilton is at the bar –”

And he was off running again, his socks skidding wildly on the polished floor. He burst through the doors and spotted Freddie, sitting in a corner of the room. He ignored the scandalised looks he was attracting from the other guests, slowing himself to a fast walk.

At last he made it to Freddie’s table, doubling over to suck in deep breaths.

“You’re much – faster – than you look,” he panted, heart banging alarmingly hard. “All that – army training. Must be working.”

Freddie was looking everywhere but at his brother, his face a startling shade of pink. He didn’t appear even slightly out of breath. He sat with his hands steepled together, body ridged.

“Your shirt is buttoned up wrong.”

“What?”

“Your _shirt_ ,” Freddie hissed. “It’s hanging off you. You’re a bloody disgrace.”

Toby looked down at himself, noticing for the first time that his shirt was gaping open at the top and bottom. Only four of the buttons were done up, and none of them were in the correct holes.

“I can explain,” Toby said, still breathless from the run. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead that was making him cold, his body sticky and terrified.

“Alright,” Freddie muttered. “Explain.”

Toby swallowed reflexively. People were beginning to look their way again, muttering in appalled delight at his socked-feet and dishevelled shirt. His hair was likely standing on end too, because God knew he hadn’t brushed it. “What?”

“I said _explain_.”

There was no way to explain, because it was exactly what it looked like. Toby’s breathing was still uneven, his heart bruising his ribs in its bid to escape. Freddie looked pristine in his RAF uniform. Not a hair was out of place on his head, and the only thing betraying him was the colour in his cheeks. Freddie met his eye and Toby felt pinned down by the stare.

“I’m not…” he said, unsure how to finish the sentence. “It wasn’t…”

“You are,” Freddie said, his tone hard. “And you were.”

The stare continued several more seconds until Toby looked down, a strange sound coming from his throat. He thought maybe that’s what it sounded like when you cried without any tears.

Freddie groaned and dropped his head into his hands, pushing his fingers against his eyes.

This time it was Toby who ran away. He made it up three flights of stairs and two corridors before he was back in his room. Adil was waiting for him, now fully dressed and serious-looking.

Toby made sure the door was shut and locked before dropping to his knees and sobbing.

*

Toby avoided Freddie for the next five hours, any thought of a brotherly catch-up over drinks abandoned.

“It’s going to be alright,” Adil said, stroking Toby’s hair. Toby was laying on his bed, his head resting in Adil’s lap. His legs had curled up tight to his chest and he didn’t think he could unwind even if he wanted to.

When they were children and their beds were in one nursery he and Freddie had slept in the same positions, mirroring each other. He curled to the left, Freddie to the right. His legs ached, now. Freddie probably slept on his back or his side, like everyone else. Maybe he slept wrapped around Emma like Adil slept wrapped around him. Perhaps even now his head was in Emma’s lap, his knees pulled in tight.

“He looked…sick,” Toby said, voice constricted. “Like what we were doing made him physically ill.”

“He was in shock.”

“It makes _me_ feel sick.” The hand on his hair stilled abruptly and Toby tilted his head back to look at Adil. “Not us, obviously. Being with you makes me feel…well, you know. But Freddie’s my brother. And what we were doing – what I was doing – repulsed him.”

Adil pushed his fingers through Toby’s fringe again, soothing. They had been in this position for an hour or more, after Toby had stopped pacing the room. He wondered how he hadn’t given Adil a dead leg. “You won’t know for sure until you talk to him.”

The confidence of the words broke Toby’s calm.

“Oh really?” he snapped, the fragile equilibrium in his chest shattering yet again. “I’m sure you’d be a bundle of laughs if your family found out. You’ve got a brother, haven’t you? Maybe we should invite him to the bar tonight, let him in on the secret. Should I call him?”

Adil continued stroking his hair, not falling for the bitterness. Toby wanted him to snap and bite back, to throw him off the bed and create an argument. The tension in his chest felt like a physical weight, compressing his heart into his lungs. If he could just scream at someone, hit something –

But Adil didn’t move.

“I’m a horrible person,” Toby said, and Adil moved his fingers lower, smoothing them over his hunched shoulders. “Evil, just like you said earlier. You should shout at me now, or tell me I don’t deserve you. You can, you know. You should.”

Day had slipped into evening and the light beyond the net curtains was almost gone. The gloom of the room matched Toby’s mood.

“Contrary to what you’ve been raised to believe,” Adil murmured, “I do not live exclusively to satisfy your demands, Mr Hamilton.”

Of course Adil was too good to fight with him. That was just his bloody luck.

“You’re a rubbish bartender,” Toby tried, just for the hell of it. “And you’re shorter than me. When I bend to kiss you it’s like kissing a girl.”

Adil pulled his shoulder, forcing him onto his back. Toby stared up, his adrenaline surging. _Yes, yes, hit me, hit me_ – “You are very lucky that I’m so fond of you,” Adil said, placing his mouth right over Toby’s ear until the words tickled. “Very lucky indeed.”

*

“He won’t want to see me,” Toby mumbled, staring at himself in the mirror. Adil had practically forced him into his clothes, even going so far as to tie his shoelaces.

“He loves you,” Adil reminded him, turning him around so he could fasten his bowtie. Toby thought he did it up rather tighter than necessary.

“Families like mine don’t just operate on love. It’s about duty. Respect.” He thought about his father, and wondered what would have happened if it was he who had caught them, instead of Freddie. There would probably be a pistol aimed at his head, or else he would have been marched around to the war office to enlist. “Do you think I should try to deny it?”

Adil considered it, briefly. “It’s your decision,” he said, smoothing a hand over Toby’s fringe to make it lie flatter. “If you think he will react poorly then perhaps denial is the best option. But he did see us, Toby. More of me than of you.” He tried for a smile, but it was strained. Toby saw that Adil was just as shaken as he was, only hiding it better.

Toby pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing him for all he was worth. “Or I could just stay up here,” he said into Adil’s neck, smelling the addictive scent of soap and booze that clung to him. “Freddie’s only here for two days. I can outlast him.”

Adil pushed him away gently and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m at the bar now until eleven. If you’re not down in one hour I’m coming up to get you, consequences be damned.”

*

Toby’s shirt collar was cutting off his air supply and his palms were sweating. He had already wiped them twice on his trousers but the clamminess remained. Adil had left his room half an hour ago, leaving him with a lingering kiss and the instruction to ‘get it over with’.

Freddie was sitting at one of the small tables. He had positioned himself on the far side of the dancefloor, with a clear view of the room. When Toby came in he saw that Freddie was staring into the distance, his expression far away.

 _Courage_ , Toby told himself, fingers trembling.

His legs took him to Freddie’s table, keeping him in place until his brother looked up. There were so many layers to his expression that Toby felt frozen by it, caught in the awkwardness, grief, confusion, and fear.

“May I?” Toby asked, gesturing at the empty seat.

Freddie nodded and Toby slumped into the chair quickly, hiding his sweating hands under the table. He didn’t know how to start the conversation. Freddie didn’t seem to know either and they avoided each other’s eyes, looking at the guests.

There was no way to lead into it gently.

“What – what you saw, earlier,” Toby stammered, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “It was…we were just –”

“Kissing.” Freddie was staring into his drink as if it was the most fascinating thing in the room. “You were kissing him.”

“Not much,” Toby whispered, the words barely audible. His mind was spinning uncontrollably and he wished he had stayed upstairs. He wanted Adil’s arm around his waist and the covers over both of them, a place safer than any bomb shelter.

The silence stretched out, becoming harder to break with every second. Toby cleared his throat. He cleared it again, and then a third time, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “I thought the door was locked,” he said, forcing himself to say something, not caring what it was. “I always lock the door now, always. Before all of this, Mother used to come into my room, all the time. She never knocked. And I didn’t really care, because…well, I was just working. And sometimes you would come in, to talk, and that was fine too. But recently…” he tugged on his fringe, realising he was babbling. “Now I lock it, every time. Except this morning.”

Freddie was watching the ice melt into his bourbon.

“Were you drunk?” Freddie asked, and ahead Toby could see the shining opportunity to get rid of the whole situation. _So drunk_ , he could reply, wearing his most embarrassed smile. _I could barely see, let alone think_.

“Completely sober,” he said, before the lie became too tempting.

Freddie bit his thumb nail, something Toby hadn’t seen him do since they were children. Lord Hamilton had whacked him over the back of the head whenever he caught him doing it, until Freddie’s lips were cut from the amount of times his nail had jammed against them.

“Was it a one off?” he asked, around his thumb. “War makes people do strange –”

“We’re together,” Toby said in a rush. “We’ve been together since August.”

The silence after that statement was so complete that even the music from the stage seemed dimmed.

“Together,” Freddie repeated. “You and the…barman.”

Toby tried to straighten his back, not cower away from the conversation like he wanted to. “That’s right,” he mumbled. “And don’t say ‘the barman’ like it’s a bad thing. You’re dating the receptionist.”

“Assistant manager,” Freddie corrected. He dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes, massaging his temples. He blew out a breath, long and slow. “Toby, is this real? If this is a joke then tell me now. I won’t be mad.”

Toby looked over at the bar. Adil was watching them and pretending not to, for all intents and purposes chatting to an overweight gentleman with a monocle. Toby caught him every few seconds glancing up and then away again, wiping down the counter.

“I’m really telling you this,” he said firmly, letting the sight of Adil strengthen him.

Freddie looked up, his forehead creased with strain. Becoming Lord Hamilton had brought so many additional stresses, and Toby was pleased for the thousandth time for the precious four minutes between them.

“So you’re…” Freddie began, stumbling to a halt. The word ‘homosexual’ seemed to disorientate him. “You like…”

“Adil,” Toby said quickly. “I like Adil.”

“And other…men?”

He had never found out. The intelligence needed to access those thoughts had been buried so deep it had never seen the light of day. Not until Adil had taken a step towards him in the wine cellar.

“I suppose so,” Toby said, carefully.

Freddie tracked a finger around the rim of his glass, thinking the answer over. Toby watched him, waiting for an explosion of rage or resentment. Had their father been sat where Freddie was, Toby would have already been dragged upstairs to a more private setting, the conversation continuing at five times the volume.

“No,” Freddie said finally. He smiled, but it was vague and faded quickly.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve known you my entire life and this isn’t you. You’re lying to me.”

Toby wondered how the world had gotten so out of control. He fiddled with the signet finger idly, wondering what to do. The temptation was to go along with Freddie’s insane denial tactic, letting his brother shape the story to something they could both agree upon.

But if he did that, it would be delayed self-sabotage. He might buy himself and Adil a few extra weeks, but Freddie’s mind would still be churning with the memory. As the poison festered it would eventually become worse.

“This is real,” he promised, keeping his voice tight to stop it breaking. “I would never lie to you, Freddie. Not about something like this.”

Freddie’s face, which had before been so flushed, was beginning to look sickly. His eyes were shining with a feverish quality. “Last chance,” he whispered. “Last chance to come clean.”

Toby reached over and patted Freddie’s arm. “This is as clean as it gets,” he said, withdrawing before Freddie could shake him off.

“I need another drink,” Freddie said after a lengthy pause, face still ashen.

“Absolutely,” Toby said, standing up, eager to get away from the table. “Same again?” He didn’t wait for Freddie to reply before weaving his way around dancing couples and other tables, moving with purpose.

Adil looked up when he reached him. There was subdued anxiety in his eyes, his gaze raking over Toby, trying to detect what had happened.

“What can I get you, Mr Hamilton?”

Toby’s fingers clenched into a fist so he didn’t do anything foolish. Everything in his body was longing to touch Adil, to seek out comfort and reassurance. He leant over the bar as far as he dared, reducing the space between them.

“A drink for myself and my brother, as strong as you like. Our conversation requires…something to steady the nerves.”

Adil’s eyes were on his, soft and sympathetic. He was moving on auto-pilot, slipping ice into glasses and mixing spirits, pouring straight bourbon into a glass for Freddie and something bright and strong into a shaker for Toby.

“How is he taking it?” Adil murmured, the words barely audible. The guests on either side of them were engaged in conversation, their chatter a convenient cover.

“It’s hard to tell,” Toby said, deliberately light. He didn’t want Adil to feel like he did, like his insides were being scooped out and replaced with stones. “We’ve only just conquered denial.”

Adil’s eyebrows were drawn together, and Toby wanted nothing more than to reach across and touch them.

“Whatever happens, come and see me tonight,” Toby whispered, urgency creeping into his tone. “I don’t care if it’s late, or I’m upset. As long as I’m not in jail or under house arrest, come and see me.”

Adil slid the drinks across the bar, allowing his index finger to bump into Toby’s hand. “Of course, Mr Hamilton,” he said. Something in his expression made Toby realise that the need for physical contact went both ways.

He took the drinks and turned away before the primal part of himself could reach out and grab the closest part of Adil’s body.

“What did he say to you?” Freddie asked, as soon as he was back at their table.

Toby placed the bourbon in front of his brother, forcing himself not to bolt. “I imagine it was something along the lines of ‘would you like ice, Mr Hamilton?’”

“Do you think that’s funny?”

“A little.” He took a sip of his drink, relishing the burning sensation it brought.

Freddie’s fingers were clasped together, knuckles white from the strength of the grip. “Have you tried to stop it?” he asked, when the silence had drawn on for too long.

Toby remembered the aftermath of the wine cellar, when he had paced around his room until his feet ached. He had gone into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then washed his face, then had a shower. The kiss wasn’t something that was on him, it was inside him. It had taken up residence in his soul and refused to budge, a small ball of energy that was deep and peaceful. When Adil had knocked on his door that evening the warmth in his chest had soared. Their second kiss had sealed his fate.

“I can’t stop it,” he said truthfully.

“You mean you won’t.”

Toby shook his head. He thought of Adil holding him, kissing him, unbuttoning his shirt to try and get to his skin faster. He remembered the childish stroking of hands over his sides to try and tickle him. He didn’t want to stop it.

“What about a girlfriend? If you tried, even once –”

“I don’t want a girlfriend.”

“Because you have a boyfriend?”

Was that what they were? The term didn’t feel right. Surely people who had boyfriends were allowed to hold hands in public, go to the picture house together, eventually get married. He and Adil spent all their time in a single room, wrapped around each other like blankets.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Toby said quietly. “But he is mine.”

Freddie clucked his tongue, rolling his head back to look at the ceiling.

“I feel sorry for you then,” Freddie said, and Toby noted that he couldn’t look at him as he said it, as if some part of him was genuinely sorry. “You know that Mother will interfere eventually, don’t you? You’ll be auctioned off to the girl with the most money.”

Toby had lain restless in bed one night, thinking the same thing. He had shaken Adil awake, pressing his mouth over his cheeks, his neck, his chest. He repeated to Freddie what Adil had mumbled to him while half asleep. “We’ve got to live now, while we can. We might be dead tomorrow.”

“And if we’re not?”

“Then I’ll enjoy one more day with him. And then the next day and the next for as long as I can.”

Adil was pouring champagne at the bar, his mouth quirked up into a polite smile as a pair of rich old ladies fussed around him. Toby felt himself leaning forwards, wanting Adil’s eyes to fix on him too, needing the lift.

“I did wonder, you know. What was making you so giddy.” Freddie had joined him in looking at the bar, his cheeks a pale pink. “I was foolish enough to think it was the war office.”

Toby attempted a smile. “Work does make me happy. But so does he.”

“I don’t understand how,” Freddie said slowly. “The fear of discovery, the thought of prison – how does that not outweigh any happiness?”

Toby didn’t mention that he had thought about prison many times, waking up in a cold sweat. When he pictured the scene it was never himself he saw behind bars. He imagined Adil’s small frame dwarfed by a prison uniform, the news spreading like wildfire among the inmates that there was ‘one of those’ in the cell block with them. Every time it happened he forced himself to get out of bed, pacing the energy off around his room or the hotel corridors. “The same way that the fear of death does not stand between you and Emma.”

“It’s not the same.”

“For me it is.” Toby had watched Freddie say goodbye to Emma before, the way their hands didn’t want to lose contact until the last possible moment. Every time could be the final farewell. Toby felt the same pull in his gut when he closed his bedroom door on Adil, letting him disappear into the dark corridor.

“Adil made this drink for me before you arrived,” Freddie said, tapping a finger against his first empty glass. “I expected him to be flustered, mortified even, but do you know what he said? ‘It’s good to have you back, Lord Hamilton. What can I get you?’”

Toby felt a flicker of pride pass through him.

“You expected him to beg for his job?”

“Naturally.”

“He doesn’t have to, does he? You won’t fire him.”

Freddie looked at Toby in confusion. “I have to,” he said, slowly. “He can’t continue working here after this. It won’t be cruel, if that’s what you’re thinking. He can work until the end of the month and move on to another hotel after that.” He noticed Toby’s tormented look, his brow creasing further. “What on earth did you think would happen?”

“I – I don’t know,” Toby stuttered, feeling abruptly sick. He had made the wrong decision earlier. Freddie had offered him denial on a plate and he had scorned it, so sure that honesty was the only way. “You can’t,” he mumbled, pushing the fear down before it overwhelmed him. “You can’t make him go, Freddie.”

His brother’s eyes were trained on his face, watching the anguish unfold.

“We’ll get you help,” Freddie said, and the kindness in his voice sickened Toby further. “You’ve had a tough time lately, since Father’s death. We all have. But it’s time to heal now, to get our lives back on track.”

Toby’s fingers on his glass were trembling.

Freddie noticed and put a hand over his, stilling the shakes. “There are doctors out there who specialise in this. We’ll be discreet, Mother needn’t know. God knows it would break her heart.”

Toby withdrew his hand from Freddie’s. He wanted more than anything to glance towards the bar, to see Adil looking back at him. He forced himself to stay where he was.

“Freddie,” he said, voice low. “This thing that I have…It’s who I am. Genetic. Incurable.”

“It isn’t.”

“It _is_. Don’t you think I would know? I’ve been reading about it, thinking about it constantly. It’s documented in every culture across the world. America, Europe, Africa –”

“But we’re twins,” Freddie said, as if that shut down any possible argument. “If it’s genetic then I would have it too. We share eye colour, hair colour –”

“We’re not the same person.”

“I know that!”

“Do you?” Toby took a long breath, trying to think coherently. “Our lives aren’t going to be the same. We share parents, and a hotel, and a birthday. Take those things away and we’re completely different.”

Freddie looked toward the bar and Toby took that as permission to look as well. Adil was turned away from them, reaching on his tiptoes for a bottle of gin on the highest shelf. “He still has to go,” Freddie said, impassively. “He’s the root of the problem.”

Toby gritted his teeth, wondering if Freddie’s reflexes were quick enough to avoid a punch.

“The problem is me. I’ll be this way with or without him. It’s just that with him here…I’m happy.”

“You only think you are.”

Perhaps this was how it would end. Adil would be called into Mr Garland’s office tonight, no warning given. Mr Garland would explain to him that Lord Hamilton had requested his resignation, to be handed in first thing tomorrow morning. No, he didn’t know why. You must have done something inexcusable, Mr Joshi.

Adil would come up to his room afterwards looking shaken, wondering why Toby had done nothing to protect him. They would embrace and talk but it would still be there, under everything. He had let it happen.

“Please, Freddie,” Toby said. He stopped hiding the desperation he felt, letting it show openly on his face. He wanted Freddie to see it, feel it. “I’ll never ask you for anything else as long as I live. Don’t fire him.”

“Now you’re begging me?” Freddie asked, perplexed. “What has he done to you?”

There were angry tears threatening the corners of Toby’s eyes and his throat felt strangled. “You have no idea,” he said. The situation reminded him of the countless arguments he’d had with his father, being pushed almost to the point of breaking. “If you force him out, if you make him leave, we’re done. I won’t speak another word to you the rest of our lives. I swear it.”

Freddie was looking at him with his mouth slightly open, dumbfounded.

“You’re choosing an Indian barman over your _twin brother_?”

“Let him stay,” Toby said. “Let him stay and I won’t have to.”

Grief crossed Freddie’s features, the sharp feeling of pain visible on him. He pushed a hand through his hair, the gel making it stand up in grooves.

Toby threw back the last of his drink, standing up abruptly. “I’ll get us another,” he said, walking away from the table before Freddie could say anything.

He had to wait several minutes for Adil, who was busy making a colourful cocktail for a lady in a large hat. Tom attempted to take his order but he waved him away wordlessly.

Adil didn’t even ask what he wanted when he saw him, already bringing out two fresh glasses.

“It’s not going well,” Toby whispered, relying on Betsy to cover his words. “I don’t know what he’s going to do. He mentioned firing you.” The bar was so shiny Toby could see himself reflected in it. He put his hands over the counter, blocking the image of his crumpled face.

“Mr Hamilton, you need to stop coming to the bar,” Adil said quietly. He didn’t look up as he poured shots into a mixer, being as discreet as possible. “Go and sit down. I’ll have these brought over.”

“Didn’t you hear me? He’s going to sack you.”

“That’s not the worst thing he could do.”

“Stop it,” Toby snapped. Adil was still wearing a fixed professional smile, and Toby wanted to shake it off his face. “I’ve told him that if he does I’ll sever all ties.”

Adil spilt a small amount of gin on his hand, his body jerking. “Toby, _no_ –”

Toby made to grab the glasses and Adil threw caution to the wind, gripping his wrist. He let go immediately but Toby paused, seeing the amount of turmoil that had prompted the move.

“You mustn’t do anything on my behalf,” Adil muttered, dropping a wedge of lime into Toby’s drink to cover the movement. “We don’t get to choose our relatives. Family is forever.”

Toby took the drinks. “So are you,” he said.

*

When he sat back down the atmosphere had shifted.

“You know, I always wondered about Lord Ashworth’s son,” Freddie said, with no preamble. He was playing with a small thread that had come loose on his sleeve, tugging it. The thread was getting longer and longer, fraying the inside of his cuff.

“Do you remember that summer they came to stay with us in the country? He was my friend but you two were always together. Inseparable, if I remember correctly.”

Toby blinked at him, nonplussed. “Why are we talking about Edmund Ashworth?” He took a small sip of his drink, remembering the boy. He had red hair and a million freckles, much to his mother’s distaste.

“Why do you think?”

“I have no idea, as we haven’t seen him in over a decade. He came to stay when we were ten, Freddie, so if you’re implying there was something between us –”

“No, I wasn’t,” Freddie said, looking frustrated. “I only meant…well. Did you like him? Back then?”

“No,” said Toby, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I played with him because we were children, and we both liked Beowulf.” Edmund had made an impressive Grendel, whereas Freddie always wanted to play Kind Arthur and his knights. “You can end the witch hunt now, because I’ve never fancied any of your friends.”

The thread from Freddie’s sleeve had become so long that he looped it around his hand, twisting it back and forth. “If you insist on doing this at all it should be with someone like Edmund,” Freddie muttered. “You’re both from powerful families. Even if you were caught, neither of you would serve jail time.”

Toby paused over the words ‘insist on doing this’, wondering if it was the first step towards acceptance. He forced his fingers to stop toying with the signet ring. “Adil won’t go to jail,” he said firmly. “And he’s not replaceable.”

“Not replaceable,” Freddie repeated, hanging his head. “My brother is infatuated with a man.” The words were far louder than Toby would have liked but thankfully no heads turned their way. “My twin brother is in love with –”

“ _Hey_ ,” Toby said, grabbing his arm. “You think you’re being funny but you’re not. If you humiliate me over this –”

Freddie placed a hand on Toby’s wrist, gripping it harshly. “Don’t confuse me with Father.”

“Don’t act like him then.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, drinking.

“I’m not going to fire him,” Freddie said, very quietly. “Although God knows I should.”

Toby didn’t react in any way, though a knot loosened in his stomach. “Alright,” he said simply.

“I woke up this morning thinking I knew you.” Freddie’s eyes were pink from the alcohol, likely consumed on an empty stomach. Toby wondered how much vomit he would produce later, all over his unspoiled uniform.

“You do know me,” Toby said, rolling his eyes. “We’re twins, for God’s sake. You’ve known me from the day we were born.”

“You threatened to never speak to me again. The Toby I knew would never have done that.”

“Because you were going to destroy the best thing in my life!”

And Adil was the by far the best thing in his life. He thought about him in the mornings, waiting by his door at 8.15 to drag him inside. At work he had to force himself to concentrate, not let his mind slip off to thoughts of the hotel, and what was happening in the bar. In the evenings he sat at one of the small tables until Adil was finished, shooting him sly glances the entire time.

He and Freddie drank for a few minutes, both watching Betsy cradle the microphone as she sang ‘My Foolish Heart’ with mournful grace. At last Freddie turned to him and asked “So is it just…him? Or have there been…others?” He looked like he didn’t really want the answer.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

Toby considered saying nothing, closing the conversation down now. He didn’t want to discuss how Adil had awakened in him something he never knew he had, the ability to love and be loved in return. Before that his eyes had never followed anyone at all, trapped in a state of wilful ignorance.

“Just him,” Toby said, shortly. “He’s my first everything.”

Freddie choked on his drink and Toby went scarlet. “First _kiss_ ,” he clarified quickly, wanting to crawl away from the table in mortification. “Just that. My first kiss. Nothing else.” He ignored the fact that Freddie had seen him with his hand down Adil’s underwear when he walked in on them. His brother had likely already repressed the memory.

“For the love of God,” Freddie said awkwardly. He was still gasping, coughing into his hand.

“I get it,” Toby said hurriedly. “Absolutely no details. I wouldn’t tell you for all the money in the world anyway.”

Freddie took a sip of his drink, eyes slightly bloodshot. “You’re my brother,” he said. “The thought of you in bed with anyone is horrific.”

For the first time since he had sat down, Toby allowed himself a small smile. “I feel the same about you and Emma. She’s practically our sister.”

“You’re making it sound weirder than it is.”

Toby raised his glass. “To keeping all details of our sex lives unspoken,” he said boldly, holding his breath. After a few seconds Freddie raised his own glass, touching them together.

“But not our lives,” Freddie amended. “I don’t want any more secrets between us.”

“How many secrets do you imagine I have? You know me better than anyone right now.”

“Except our barman.”

Toby grinned, hesitantly. “Alright, except him.”

*

Toby was on his sixth drink, Freddie on his seventh. The conversation picked up and then dropped off again, growing close to comfortable before sliding back into awkward.

“Would you ever have told me? If I hadn’t found out, I mean.” Freddie was drawing circles on the table with the condensation from his glass, making a lopsided pattern.

“Of course not.”

“So I would never have known who you truly are.”

A small amount of hope blossomed in Toby’s chest. If Freddie thought this was who he was, who he had always been, they might be making progress. “It’s nobody’s business but mine,” he said with a shrug.

Freddie surveyed him, his expression drawn. “How lonely,” he said.

“Necessary,” Toby corrected.

They were both feeling the effects of the alcohol, each glass containing a double shot. Toby’s eyes were growing hazy, his churning mind slowing a fraction. Freddie did not look as confused as he had at the beginning of the night. The revolted look had morphed into one of exhaustion, and curiosity.

“So tell me about him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know nothing about the man. Why do you like him?”

Toby felt himself blushing to the roots of his hair. “It’s not – he’s just – I’m –” He forced himself to take a breath, washing it down with a sip of his drink. “He’s interesting,” he said.

“Plenty of people are interesting.”

Toby forced himself to keep breathing deeply. “I like how he is around people,” he began, avoiding Freddie’s eye. “He’s so at ease, so personable, the opposite of all the things I am. He’s logical too, and calm. When I spin out of control he’s the one who knows what to do, what to say.”

Freddie propped his chin up on his hand. He was scrutinising Toby as though he were a complex problem. “What else?” he said.

“He’s brave,” Toby murmured, addressing his hands. “Much braver than me. From the moment we met he’s always…seen me, the real me. It would have been easier, safer, to do nothing. But he took a chance.”

“What else?”

“What more do you want? He’s kind, funny, beautiful –”

“Steady on –”

“He smells good too,” Toby said, unable to stop the thought tumbling out. “I’ve never smelt anything like it. When I’m stressed and crumbling from the amount of work I’ve got to do he just…holds me. And he smells…like something I want.”

“Lord help me,” Freddie said, quietly. “You love him.”

“What? No, shut up!” Toby blurted, mortified. “All I said was that he _smells_ good.” He tapped a finger on the table, agitated. “Do you love Emma?” he said, trying to turn the conversation around.

“Of course.”

“Well, sure. You’ve known her, what, eleven years?”

“And Adil’s worked here for five years or more, by my reckoning. He started working at the bar when we were still at school.”

Toby fiddled with his glass, not knowing what to say.

“If you’re too ashamed to call it what it is –”

“I’m not ashamed,” Toby snapped, despite knowing he had never had the courage to say the words to Adil. He had been close so many times, but each and every time the moment arose he had stopped himself, saying something else instead. He would be damned if he said them to Freddie first.

“You can admit to me that you’re dating a man, but not that you care for him?”

Toby’s eyes snapped up to meet his. “Of course I care for him. He’s the best person I’ve ever met.” The revelation made his face heat. Freddie craned his neck to look at the bar, straining to see past the waltzing couples. Adil was talking to Tom, his head bowed.

“He can’t be that good,” Freddie said, brow furrowed. “The best person you’ve _ever_ met? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Toby said, uncertain whether to be amused or concerned at Freddie’s decline in mental capacity. “You’re getting awfully nosey, you know. Just like Mother.”

“Because I’m beginning to understand you in a way I never have.”

The words made Toby awkward, blindsided on how to respond. “Another drink?” he asked, signalling Tom.

But Freddie got to his feet instead, swallowing the last drops in his glass. “Real men order at the bar. None of this waiter business.” He took a few steps before Toby made a grab for him, trying to push him back into his seat.

“Then I’ll get yours,” Toby said quickly, his hands firm on Freddie’s shoulders.

Freddie slipped away from his grip. “I own this hotel, Toby, in case you’d forgotten. I can go anywhere in it I please.” He moved swiftly over the dancefloor and Toby followed him, nearly getting ploughed down by an exuberant couple dancing the foxtrot.

“No,” Toby insisted, even as Freddie pulled out a stool. His brother was smiling in a slightly tipsy way, his fingers drumming on the counter. When Adil came through the staff door holding a clean tray of glasses, Freddie caught his attention with a cheery wave.

Putting the tray down, Adil came over to them cautiously. He looked at Toby for guidance but Toby couldn’t give any. He watched Freddie stare at Adil, giving him the once over.

“Your uniform is incredibly neat, Mr Joshi.”

Adil didn’t seem to know how to interpret the compliment. “Thank you, Lord Hamilton,” he said.

“Just this morning it was on the floor, in a heap. You’ve done a remarkable job at getting the wrinkles out.”

Adil’s face flushed slightly, but he did not wince. “Thank you, Lord Hamilton.”

Freddie turned to Toby, clapping him on this shoulder. “Yes, he is brave, isn’t he? Just like you said. We’ve been talking about you,” he said conspiratorially to Adil, shooting him a lopsided smile. “All evening. Toby here thinks you’re worth rather a lot.”

Adil blinked, not reacting. He began pouring out two glasses of whisky, keeping them both neat. When he was done he hitched a smile onto his face, pushing the drinks forwards. “Enjoy gentlemen.” He turned and walked through the staff exit, gesturing for Tom to take his place. Toby wondered if he was genuinely doing work out the back, or if he was simply slumped against the shelves trying to maintain his composure.

Freddie turned to Toby, sighing deeply. “I still don’t get the appeal,” he said.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“You know I’ve seen that boy shirtless, don’t you? He should be more comfortable around me.”

Toby spluttered out a laugh against his will. Freddie was an affable, if sometimes melancholy, drunk. “He likes you,” he confessed, wondering if it was his place to say. “He thinks you’re running this place a lot smoother than Father ever did.”

Freddie hummed in approval, eyeing his scotch. “So he should like me. I’m letting him keep his job, even after stealing my brother’s innocence.”

Toby blushed, thinking about exactly how much of that innocence Adil had taken. There were some things he was very glad that Freddie didn’t know.

“How does he make you feel?” Freddie asked suddenly. He put down his glass and turned to Toby earnestly. “That’s my last big question, I promise. How does he make you…feel?”

Toby rolled the question around in his mind, wondering how to answer it. “Safe,” he replied, finally, unable to meet Freddie’s eye. “And…I don’t know. Loved, maybe.”

Freddie didn’t speak for a few moments, staring into his drink. Toby thought he could see his throat bobbing, as though he was swallowing multiple times. He was thinking about Emma, and trying to fit the image side by side with Adil.

“He really…loves you?”

Toby gave an awkward shrug. “I think so,” he said. “He told me, once.”

“And you didn’t say it back?”

Toby’s grip tightened on his drink. “No,” he admitted. “I didn’t.”

Freddie dragged a hand through his hair, messing it up more than he already had. “But you wanted to, of course.”

Toby didn’t say anything. Of course he had wanted to, but that’s not what people did. Doomed lovers did not whisper ‘I love you’ to each other in the middle of the night, not unless they were asking for trouble.

“This has all been extremely weird,” Freddie said, stifling a yawn. “In fact, I think it’s been the most bizarre day of my entire life. But I’ve decided I want you to be happy.” He reached out and patted Toby on the shoulder, in the awkward fashion that only the very rich could carry off. “If they threatened to lock me up for being with Emma, I’d find a way to see her anyway. So you should try your best.”

He stood up from his bar stool, giving Toby a quick salute. “Thank you for the catch-up, brother. Not what I had in mind, but whisky is whisky.” He knocked back the last of his drink and departed, bumping Toby’s shoulder on the way past.

After he had gone Toby sat quite still, letting his brain catch up with itself. Then he broke into a grin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A different angle on the Toby/Adil discovery - Freddie finds out instead of Mr D'Abberville.  
> I don’t have a beta, so apologies for any jarring grammatical errors.
> 
> Thank you in advance for any comments or kudos, they make my day!


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